


realist

by whitesclera



Category: Virtual Streamer Animated Characters
Genre: Hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:53:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29490873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitesclera/pseuds/whitesclera
Summary: "There's no point in a relationship where he will be taken care of, even if he's told he deserves it. Roberu can hardly look after himself. He doesn't want a relationship where Shien will be everything he needs while he is only what Shien ever wanted."
Relationships: Kageyama Shien/Yukoku Roberu
Kudos: 12





	realist

The side of his face stings. 

Izuru didn’t hold back with that punch- he’d caught the side of his lip with a knuckle and it tore against the edge of his teeth, and although it bled, he didn’t look satisfied at all. He looked _livid_ , like he was the one who Roberu did wrong, and Roberu laughed at him, at that expression on his face, the sound dripping with acid and red because it wasn’t any of Izuru’s business. That had been between him and Shien.

“You _fucking asshole_.”

Roberu smiled at him, teeth tasting of copper, fingers gingerly ghosting over his sore jaw. He might have lashed back, or maybe he wouldn't, not with Miyabi and Aruran rushing to hold Izuru by the arms to stop him from getting another hit in. Roberu doesn't know, he's too tired to wonder.

“If only it hadn’t been someone like you,” Izuru had said, ripping his arms away from Miyabi's hold with a visceral scream, “if only he hadn’t chosen _you_ -”

He digs into the cut of his lip with a blunt fingernail. The stinging is faint compared to the swelling soreness of his cheek, and Roberu wants to laugh all over again as he remembers the look on the teen’s face when he’d echoed his words back to him.

“He’d be happier, wouldn’t he?” What must he have looked like to them, standing there bruised and bloody, alone with no one to defend him? At the very least, he'd hoped that the coat hid the sharp lines of his bones from their eyes; he has had difficulty eating the past few nights. It's one thing to know he's all alone and it's another to let them see what it's doing to him. Roberu had his pride. “I know more than you do. More than _any_ of you do. He’s too good for me, is that what you want to say?”

The laughter had torn through his throat, taking with it what little fight he had left in him, and Izuru flinched at the sound.

God, Roberu was _tired_.

“You’re right,” he said, his voice bordering on a scream. “You’re _right_ , Shien is too good for me. He’s perfect, isn’t he? Anyone would be lucky to have him. I get it, Izuru, I really do. You care about him. He’s your friend and I thought,” his words faltered, and he wasn't sure if it's because he'd run out of words to say or because he was just that hurt, “I _thought_ I was yours, too. I thought you’ve known me long enough to at least understand I wouldn’t do something that would deliberately hurt someone I cared about without a proper reason.”

“Roberu-san…” Miyabi’s face was sad, hands moving like he wanted to reach out but couldn't. They wouldn't, Roberu was sure of that much.

He wiped at the blood dripping down his chin with the back of his hand. He was still smiling. He doesn’t know why, but he was, he _was_ and he's deeply afraid of what will happen if he doesn't.

“I didn’t know you saw me that way,” he had murmured hoarsely. “But I’m relieved. I’m glad he still has people in his life like you.”

“It’s funny, isn’t it,” he whispers to his reflection, watching himself form the words with his mouth in detached wonder. It’s as if he’s looking at a stranger. Red-rimmed eyes, the skin under them dark with exhaustion. His complexion is pale, too, and his every movement dragged with a sluggishness that sunk into his bones. Focusing is difficult when everything around him is spinning, tinted with blackness and shadows of hallucinations. When was the last time he’d slept for more than two hours? “I went back to how I was before.”

All alone and drunk off of his mind, wallowing in not-quite self-pity, being hated for doing the right thing. His phone has been turned off ever since that night, just to kill that part of him that wanted to call him back and say he's sorry.

He pushes himself away from the sink and clumsily slides down against the tub, the joints in his knees cracking at the sudden motion. He's nauseous enough to want to throw up but he hasn’t had a single glass of water in him today; at best, he'll only dry heave over his toilet bowl.

It’s cold, he realizes after he settles, down on the bathroom floor. It was kind of nice.

He’d done something like this in the past, hadn’t he? Foolishly young without an ounce of self-restraint, he’d gone and gotten himself drunk until he couldn’t remember his own name or the place where he lived. It was excusable then- or perhaps it wasn’t. The point is he’s almost 30 and he’s making the same mistakes he did a decade ago.

“What a strange twist of fate,” he mutters as he traces the bathroom tiles through tired eyes. He could sleep here. Just for a while, he tells himself. Then he’ll get up and get his life together. Take out the bottles, get a proper meal, and live as he always had. 

_“If only it hadn’t been someone like you.”_

Roberu’s smile quietly falls away as he rolls to his side and curls into himself, feeling wounded and drained and so, so tired. The chill of porcelain seeps through the thin cloth of his shirt as he does.

“If only,” he whispers on an empty laughter. 

The tears burn the skin of his cheeks as they finally fall.

**Author's Note:**

> "There's no point in a relationship where he will be taken care of, even if he's told he deserves it. Roberu can hardly look after himself. He doesn't want a relationship where Shien will be everything he needs while he is only what Shien ever wanted."


End file.
